Or
by thenameiskeri
Summary: She wishes he wouldn't touch her like that, say things like this, "He's a good guy, Harvey." And just like that, as easy as the wind darkens a candle, his hand freezes on her arm and his façade crumbles, "Better than me, right?"


It was the moment every little girl dreams of, standing in front of an eight-foot mirror, draped in white beautiful white lace from head to toe, a perfectly-cut diamond ring sparkling on her finger, moments away from walking down a rose-covered aisle. Donna let out a deep sigh, unable to meet her own eyes in the mirror before her, stunned at the silence around her. It looks all so familiar, and yet she doesn't remember her dream _feeling_ like this.

A sharp knock at the door barely registers as she keeps her eyes focused at the small space of air where the hem of her dress floats against the plush red carpet, facing a reflection she can't look at, her bare back toward the door and her future.

Yet she can still almost feel his breath tickle her neck from all the way across the room.

Harvey doesn't speak at first, moved and then somehow stunned at the reflection staring back at him. She never wears white, he somehow realizes. Her long luscious strawberry locks fan over her porcelain shoulders, a sweetheart cut lace-bodice shaping her every curve, to meet at the end of a long train. She's always been beautiful to him; but my God, had she ever been this beautiful_ for_ him? The question seemed too late to ask. Unnerved by the knot in his stomach, he somehow manages to break the long silence.

"You are … breathtaking."

She wants to cry, for all the reasons she no longer can. She closes her eyes tightly, refusing to face him or herself just yet. She can't be weak in this moment, on this day, in front of him. She's chosen her future, and whatever is behind her…was never meant to be. She swallows the lump in her throat, before slowly turning around to face him. And just like that, she's regular Donna again, feisty and fierce. Her eyebrow arches at him, "I'm Donna. I'm _always_ breathtaking."

A warm smile graces his lips, and somehow saddens his heart, "That you are."

He takes a few brave steps toward her, reaching deep inside his tuxedo jacket. He came here for two reasons and Harvey had never failed at any task presented him. He stands before her now, just like every day for the last fifteen years and somehow nothing like it. The cold metal appliance in his hand burns his skin as he shakily extends it to her. He can only whisper, "Something old."

And just like that, she's weak again.

He rests the can opener gently in her hands, and she's too heartbroken to speak. They both look down at the shiny contraception in her hands, frozen in a moment that neither of them know how to escape. She questions every moment that led her here, with Stephen's ring on her finger, a fraction away from giving herself completely to a man she's known for only a year. And somehow, it's like Harvey can read the thought on her face.

He knows he will only get one chance, and that he'd be a fool to take it. But his will power somehow breaks as he finds a way to look back at her face. "Are…are you sure about this?"

A tear escapes the corner of her eye as she warns him, "Harvey. Don't."

But he disregards her plea, "Because if you're not…" And then, she looks up at him, more stunning and vulnerable than he has ever seen her. He could tell her, right here, right now. Tell her that maybe, possibly….He quickly falters. Still, even now, he doesn't know what to tell her. He doesn't think there are words for all he has to tell her. His eyes fall, his hand smoothes over his tie, "Because…..we could just go get some breakfast. My treat."

She sighs, relieved and devastated all in one. She finds the strength to place the can opener on the table beside her, her eyes down, "_Or_…you could tell me I'm doing the right thing."

Harvey could play this game with her for the rest of his life, "_Or_…I could whisk you away from half way down the aisle. Bermuda, Paris, Dubai maybe? They probably have amazing breakfast there."

The corner of her mouth twitches into a smirk, "_Or_…I could do myself and my entire bridal party a favor and finally strangle the life out of you in the middle of that aisle. I happen to be marrying a very lovely attorney who could get me out of any meddling criminal charges."

Harvey laughed at her, "A very lovely attorney? Geez. Just because you're marrying a Brit doesn't mean you have to sound like them."

She rolled her eyes, laughing back at him. And she let it feel normal between them, ignoring that she was dressed in a wedding gown and him in a tuxedo, ignoring that things would never be the same again once she exchanged vows. It was just them, Donna and Harvey, partners and friends, and somehow so much more.

The laughter dies down, and she looks sincerely up at him.

"I _am_ sure."

Because when she says it, she believes it's true. And when he hears it, he tells himself that it must be too.

He smiles at her, his hand smoothing down her arm, "Nobody deserves to be happy more than you. I may be a jerk most of the time, but I know how … good you are. How lucky any man would be to have you at his side. I hope this guy knows what he has."

She wishes he wouldn't touch her like that, say things like this "He's a good guy, Harvey."

And just like that, as easy as the wind darkens a candle, his hand freezes on her arm and his façade crumbles, "Better than me, right?"

Her mouth falls open slightly, shocked by the crack in his voice and the sincerity in his eyes. She wants to say yes, that he is better, that he's been honest and kind, that he's shown her decency and respect, that he truly loves her …. and then she wants to say no, that he's not better, that how could he be better, that she doesn't know how she wound up here, that all she ever wanted was….

Her silence is deafening to him, and it answers every doubt that he had. She's about to marry this guy; whatever it was between them ….never really was. He straightens his back, moving his eyes to anywhere but her. "Sorry. Didn't mean it like…. It doesn't matter. I am glad you found the right one …because you are doing the right thing. You always do the right thing. So… I'll give you five minutes & then I'll meet you outside that door. Okay?"

Donna nods faintly, "_Or_…you could give me ten."

Without a word, Harvey rushes out the door, slamming it behind him. He came here for two reasons: 1. to give her back that can opener as peace offering, to show that he accepted her choice to be with Stephen, and that he would always be in her corner just like she'd been in his …. and 2. to walk her down that stupid, stupid aisle. She asked, and what could he ever refuse her? He had to do it. He couldn't let whatever was left unresolved between them stop her from having the future that she deserved.

Without _him_.

As Harvey paced a hole in the floor outside her bride room, Donna found the strength somehow to turn away from the door and back to that mirror. She did look beautiful. And on the outside, she had never been more ready. But she found her hand, somehow tracing the outline of that silly can opener. How was she going to marry the perfect guy when she hadn't completely let go of the only one she had ever imagined her future with?

Stephen had been sweet from the start, asking her out on a proper date, sending her two bouquets of wild red roses the very next day, announcing to the entire law firm that he was crazy about this "crazy redhead". He'd literally swept her off her feet. He never questioned her about her relationship with Harvey; he said he understood how long and hard it took to build a true friendship and that he'd never stand in the way of anything she'd ever want. He said he wanted to have little red-headed children with her and raise them in England to be anything but a lawyer.

He got down on one knee the day after Valentine's Day and told her that he never knew why he couldn't fall in love with women of his past until he'd met her. Stephen said he'd been waiting for Donna Paulsen his entire life.

She said yes without ever thinking twice and had never wanted anything more.

Now, here she was, a minute or two away from the rest of her life…with Stephen. She finally found her eyes in the mirror. She hadn't realized that she'd been crying …. or that Harvey was standing right over her left shoulder.

"_Or_….you could _not_ marry him."

She had no breath, no strength, but found words somehow, "And why would I do that?"

He had become a man, unraveled, "Because I don't want you to."

She raised her chin, staring at him deeply through the mirror, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks, "And since when have I ever listened to you?"

He grabbed at her upper arm, spinning her to face him, pressing her hard up against him, "Donna."

She choked back a sob, grasping at the bottom of her lace gown, trying with whatever might she had left to pull herself away from him, "Why are you doing this? Why now?"

His grasp loosened on her arm, his shoulder sunken. Defeat had taken over his whole body, and yet he'd never felt more alive, "Because we stood in a room 15 years ago…just like this…and maybe…we made a wrong decision."

All those years ago and it still felt like it was yesterday to her. He'd come to her apartment door, young and drunk off of his first big win, and told her that she was the kind of girl he could fall for. She laughed as she let him in, deeper than she'd ever let anyone. He kissed her sloppily and told her that if they did this, right here, right now, that they could never go back. Her only reply was to kiss him as hard as she could.

The next morning, as the light peeked through the shades, it revealed unmade sheets and ugly truths. At the office, Harvey said he needed her badly, but Donna couldn't play both roles. She couldn't be like this with him here and someone else out there. Harvey said he didn't know if love even existed and or if he was capable of it. So, they chose. Together, that this relationship, at the office, was the more important and enduring one to pursue. And anything else … would never be.

Memories flooded her mind. Donna took a shaky step back, ripping the bottom of her dress with her sharp heel "_Or_…maybe you just don't want anyone else to have me. _Or_ maybe you don't like knowing that this, you and I, was the one thing you failed at. Or maybe….

He reached out, grasping her face in the palm of his hands and firmly pressing his lips to hers. He pulled away after a moment, only long enough to whisper to her.

"_Or_…maybe I'm in love with you….and have been for as far and long as I can remember. And I didn't know how to say it 'til right this moment."

And then he kissed her again. And again.


End file.
